


Asit Tal-eb

by periferal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Female Warrior, Qunari Culture and Customs, Romance, Slow Burn, Sword lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periferal/pseuds/periferal
Summary: "Asit Tal-eb" is a Qunlat phrase meaning "the way things should be," but more than that it is the underlying philosophy of the Qun. Everything, and everyone, has a place.Adaar, once Karasaad, does not want the place the Qun has assigned her.





	Asit Tal-eb

**Author's Note:**

> Romance time! This one's fluffy, or will be, eventually.

Her departure from the Qun was not as ceremonious, or philosophically grounded, as some. She knew that for some, it was as simple as a conversation, a disagreement that ended in banishment and a violent new life elsewhere.

She had intended merely to walk away from her camp, away from her commander and fellow soldiers. She did not even mean to declare that she had chosen a name for herself separate from her role of Karasaad. The alien wilderness the humans called the Wounded Shore was vast and she would disappear, seeking out the Tal-Vashoth mercenaries she had heard so much about and joining her sword with theirs.

Another Karasaad found her before she could fully disappear. He noticed the pack she carried and the strange hour of her departure.

“I am leaving,” she answered. “Let me pass.”

It had been optimistic of her to assume that he would take this truth without objection. He instead sounded the alarm; she slew him and fled.

 _I have killed another member of the Qun by my own will_ , she thought. She grimaced and stopped. _I have killed a member of the Qun_ , she amended. She was not Qunari. She was Tal-Voshoth. The thought settled heavily in her mind; this was her new role, her new name.

She felt little regret. Karasaad had not been cruel to her, but he like all the others did not understand. His cruelty had been silent, the small shape of the greater cruelty which pressed against her body and mind at every moment.

“I am Adaar,” she whispered to herself. She had not dared say this _name_ aloud, different from the nicknames, more personal and final. “I was Karasaad and I will not be reeducated. I am Aqun-Athlok, after my strange fashion. I will find a new place suited for me.”

She realized she was standing by a gnarled tree-stump, her pack in her hands, talking to herself. She shook her head, frustrated. She was not worried about being caught. The Qunari would seek her minimally; she was as good as dead now.

She would introduce herself as Adaar, as a woman. She would not brook questions. The Tal-Vashoth would not care, she was certain. Other races, for their part, would not know enough about what they would still call Qunari to tell the difference and would take her at her word.

How she would comport herself outside the Qun was a matter for another night. First, she needed food, and coin, and the knowledge of how to live in a strange land.

-

The Valo-kas did not care. Shokrakar, their leader, had come upon Adaar’s conundrum from her own place, and smiled knowingly when she heard that name.

“Weapon,” she said in the rounded human language. “You are honest, if nothing else.”

Adaar missed the Qun, more days than not. The Valo-kas were united by many things, but the Qun had been something greater, something higher than herself.

“I would have stayed,” she said to Shokrakar once, far South of where she had left the Qun. “Had they made a place for me.”

Shokrakar shook her head. “They made a place for Karasaad, Adaar,” she said. “They would have made a place for Tamassran, or worse, had you told them truth.”

A year passed, and another. The Valo-kas cared little for human politics, but the war of their mages and their templars meant gold for mercenaries all humans and elves feared enough to behave around. Thus, Adaar found herself at the Temple of Sacred Ashes when the sky broke.

For all her time in the Valo-kas, despite Shokrakar’s words, Adaar had never felt less lost, had never found the place she longed for. The freedom outside the Qun was strange, vast and choking as the sea.

That night, she stumbled out of the fade rift, her hand burnt with strange, green fire. Her body, her mind, burned. She fell to her knees and lost herself, mind cast adrift in pain and strange dreams.

She woke to more pain, to a woman in armor that glowed in the strange half-light.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” Cassandra Pentaghast demanded, her voice thick with rage and grief. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.”

“You think I did it,” Adaar answered. Her words felt strange in her throat. She could not help but look up in wonder at the woman whose name she would learn in mere moments. “All those people…”

“What else am I supposed to think?” she asked. Her voice had softened, if only a little. What she then said as so utterly fantastic Adaar would have no believed her, if not for the strange brand on her hand.  

“A hole in the sky?” Adaar asked. She could not believe it. Was this the result of unchaining the Saarebas?

The sight of the rift, a churning green mouth without teeth, was a sick fist in the pit of Adaar’s stomach. “How do we stop this?” she whispered almost to herself.

“Your mark is the best idea we have,” Cassandra said, even as the pain in Adaar’s hand flared, forcing her to her knees. “It is killing you—perhaps closing the Rift will help you.”

Was she appealing to Adaar’s selfishness? That was quite probable, but all Adaar could think of was how useless her strength was, now. “How many people have died?”

“From the explosion, or from the rifts?” Cassandra answered her question with a question.

“Either.”

“Too many to count.”

The sick feeling increased. It was one thing for people to die in combat. This was something else entirely, the grief of unburied, unclaimable bodies, of unplanned death and utter chaos.

She stood heavily, looking down at her bound hands. “I will not harm you,” she said. “I barely understand this myself.” She wiggled the fingers of the marked hand. “I am unarmed.”

Cassandra looked her up and down in a way that contextually was entirely clinical. “You would not need weapons to hurt us, I think,” she said. “Before they left, the leader of the Valo-kas spoke with me. She said you were one of her best.”

Pride and a sense of immediate, crushing betrayal warred within her. “They left?”

“I told them you were needed for the Inquisition, and she said their pay didn’t cover explosions in the sky. You were close to death.” Her expression briefly changed to one of concern. “I thought you Qunari were fanatically loyal to each other?”

The sound that escaped Adaar’s mouth was closer to a bark than a laugh and sounded bitter even to her ears. “Qunari are,” she said. “We are… something else.”

“I confess, I do not know the difference.”

Another pulse from her hand returned the conversation to more pressing topics.

“There is something I have not yet told you,” Cassandra told you.

“What?”

“Let me show you.”

There were not many other humans where they were, and Adaar followed Cassandra through a set of doors onto a bridge. The two guards on either side had expressions on their faces Adaar could not read at all, but those were quickly banished from her mind when she noticed everyone, man and woman, on the bridge staring at her.

A strange ripple passed through the gathered soldiers. Some turned away, but a couple bowed. One kneeled briefly, before she noticed Adaar’s confusion and stood.

“What is happening?” she asked. She was used to the fear, but she did not understand the odd reverence she saw in some of their eyes. It made her nervous.

“Some people are saying you are the Herald of Andraste,” Cassandra said.

“What do you believe?”

“I’m not sure, yet.”

They walked down a narrow path in rocky, snow-covered hills. “Where are we going?”

“There’s a rift nearby. Not as large as that massive one you see, but still, I want to show you what you’re up again. And there are some people you need to meet.”

“Like who?”

“Me.”

Adaar looked around, and then down. “Oh, hello,” she said, noticing the dwarf. She always felt slightly awkward talking to them. She had not had any experience with Qunari children since she was one herself, but they always seemed even smaller than those. “You are?”

“Varric. I was supposed to be free to go, but…”

“We need all the help we can get,” Cassandra said.

“I know, I know.” He hefted his strange looking crossbow. “I’m as unhappy with all the demons as you are. You really think our horned friend here can help us?”

“Yes.”

“Solas better be right,” Varric said dubiously. “Or else, we’re really doomed.”

-

Solas was an elf and a mage and Adaar liked him immediately. He, of the three people she had been allowed any significant contact with, knew the most what he was doing.

The dull remains of the spirits they had just defeated lay scattered at their feet. Adaar looked up at the fade rift in concern.  

“Do you think it can really close this thing?” she asked. It looked less like a hole in the sky, the way the big one did, and more like a green crystal born of the air itself. If she looked closely, she thought, she would be able to see farther into the Fade.

“Yes,” Solas said. Whether he was as confident as he sounded, she couldn’t tell, but even this false confidence was reassuring.

She held up her left hand, letting the alien spark flow from her body and towards the rift. It was less difficult than she had feared; whatever the mark was, it seemed drawn to the rift. The most difficult part of willing it shut, was staying upright, the sudden force of the closing rift reverberating through her whole body, knocking her back slightly.

Where the green crystal had been there was now only air.

“You did it,” Cassandra said. Her relief was palpable; as Adaar turned back to look at her, she noticed a small smile on her face.

The warmth she felt spreading inside her chest was likely an after effect of closing the rift. Adaar would have to mention that to Solas.

“I did,” Adaar said. “Now what?”

“We fix the hole in the sky,” Varric said. “Should be easy enough, don’t you think?”

-

Adaar woke to Cassandra looking down at her.

“You did it,” she said, a pleased expression on her face.

Once more, Adaar ignored the warmth in her chest. She had been knocked out by closing the breach, it seemed, and the physical effects of the mark were obviously not limited to her hand and arm.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Apparently, killing a monstrous Pride demon and temporarily closing a hole in the very fabric of our world takes a great deal of energy,” Cassandra answered. She, Adaar noticed, looked very tired. “I am glad it did not kill you, however.”

Adaar said nothing for a long moment, feeling strength flow back into her limbs.

“Why has no one asked?” she wondered aloud.

“Excuse me?” Cassandra’s expression of open confusion was almost reassuring. Adaar could, if she desired, return the conversation to the rift or to what, exactly, were they going to do now that it was stabilized?

Instead, she sat up, propping herself up on the bed with her elbows. “Why has no one asked how I could possibly be a woman?”

It was a foolish question, especially given whom she was addressing, but it slipped from her despite herself.

“Why would you be anything else?” Cassandra asked. “It’s not relevant to anything at hand.”

Right, of course, Adaar thought. She was now completely and utterly among humans, and she had asked the question of a female warrior. She must sound absolutely mad; she would only sound madder if she spoke any more on any subject relating to the Qun, or her relationship towards it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Adaar said. “What do we do now?”

“First,” Cassandra said. “There are some people you need to meet. I will describe them to you along the way, though I must warn you, they will most likely be arguing when we find them.” She grimaced. “It is, it seems, their favorite sport.”

-

Adaar and Cassandra found Cullen, Josephine and Leliana in the midst of what Adaar would soon learn was a very common activity for the three of them: arguing. In this particular case, she, Adaar, was the subject.

“A Qunari Herald?” Cullen was asking. “Is that even possible?”

“I do not know,” Adaar said. She looked over at Cassandra. Was she imagining it, or did she look relieved that Adaar had finally shown up?

He had the grace to look chagrined. “You must be her,” he said. “My sincerest apologies. It has been a rough…” He sighed. “Things have been rough, even with the breach mended.”

“I can imagine,” Adaar answered. “You are Cullen?”

He nodded. There were deep lines under his eyes, and as Adaar looked at the other two humans, she noticed they looked just as tired.

“I have already been called a heretic once today,” Adaar said, remembering her and Cassandra’s encounter with the Grand Chancellor moments earlier. “At least we seem to have made the Inquisition official.”

That news did not seem to come as much of a surprise to any of the three.

Josephine looked at Adaar contemplatively. “What you believe matters little—religious fervor is one of the best motivators for any organization.”

“Should not the leaders of a movement believe what it preaches?” Cassandra asked. From most people of her position, Adaar would have assumed she was being sarcastic. She, for her part, seemed perfectly sincere.

“Ideally, yes,” Josephine said, leaving the rest unspoken. She looked at Adaar. “Are you the Herald of Andraste?”

Adaar shook her head. “People keep asking me that,” she said. “Some, like Varric, even seem to believe it. I do not know—I don’t remember enough of my time in the fade to know.”

“Uncertainty helps no one,” Josephine answered, a bit testily. Adaar did not know what to tell her—was she to lie and claim allegiance to a faith she had never known as anything other than a motivating force for her enemies?

“I have had nothing else since I left the Qun,” Adaar answered harshly. Josephine’s expression did not change.

“You really were Qunari?” Leliana asked. She, of the three humans who were not Cassandra, impressed her the most. She seemed to see everything, and Cassandra had told her she had helped in the effort against the Fifth Blight.

Adaar nodded, surprised, as she always when, when a human knew the difference. “I… left,” she said.

To her great relief, despite her obvious curiosity, Leliana only nodded. “I understand,” she said.

“What the Inquisition needs is legitimacy,” Josephine continued. “Closing the breach is one thing, but to do anything about the conflict tearing the actual land around us apart, we will need influence and power, things not so easily given by a hole in one’s hand.”

“There are people, easily reached, who are sympathetic to our cause,” Leliana said. “Adaar, one of my best scouts has some news for you from the Hinterlands—I expect you to listen to what she has to say.”

Adaar nodded, glad to have something specific to do.

“While you do that,” Josephine said, “I will reach out to my contacts in Val Royeax.”

“And I’ll… inspect the troops again, I suppose,” Cullen said. He sighed but did not say anything else.

Was this being a leader? Adaar was uncertain; it did not seem like the best place for her, but what choice did she have? The world itself was threatened, or at least this part of it.

“Will you come with me?” she asked Cassandra as they were leaving.

“Where?”

“The Hinterlands.”

“Of course,” Cassandra answered.

Adaar smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review to let me know what you think!


End file.
